Not a Hero
by Juni cho
Summary: I wasn't supposed to be here. To be any where but home, but now it seems too impossible to even think about. Not only did I fall into a fictional game, but I also have to deal with the fact that i'm a ghost only seen by assassins. I don't know what happened or how I got here, but there is on thing I sure as hell won't do in this world. Save them, and change the story itself. Right?


Did I just die?!

When I was a young girl I used to play with inanimate objects pretending they were something more. Imagining a box was my castle, a doll a fairy princess , and a stick as my blade. I would often find myself on a great battlefield defending a mass of innocents from a great beast. Of course I would always come out as the victor, a grin plastered on my face believing that I had become a hero. Even though it was a long time ago, I still can't help but wonder what it would be like if I had continued down that road. Probably dead, or injured. Hell it doesn't matter either way. I'm not a hero, so any attempts otherwise would be pointless.

If you haven't noticed already I like to see the reality of things. Sure as a kid I would joke around with the occasional wild bouts of rebellion, but as time passed and I got older I realized that heroes don't exist. In other words I grew up.

All this talk about acts of valor, honesty, and integrity is a load of bull. Everything nowadays is a lie. Even words like good or evil are misconceptions of humans believing that there is a defining line between them. If there was a line then it must be very blurry. I failed to see that and so many people are in that kind of mentality, they are unfortunately the first ones to fall into despair. Falling is easy, getting back up takes time. That's why when it was my time to fall it seemed like forever to get back, but I had come back nonetheless.

My fur brown boots crush the soft snow beneath my feet leaving a trace of me behind. With each step I took my destination appears before me closer and welcoming. the lights to my brick like home pierced the winter skies as if a beacon guiding me back home. Normally I would find this as a good thing, however, considering the fact that dad was at the station means only one thing. Ken was home, and was probably hogging the t.v. again. What a drag. After a long day in the fields I'm becoming very sleepy. By the time he finishes I should be up by then. Thinking it through I decided to just just roll with it.

After two minutes my feet had finally planted itself at the front door. Pulling out my key from my black sleek coat I unlocked the door shutting it behind over I pulled off the wet boots placing it on the side. Pale feet move across the light wooden floors, comfortable from the heat radiating out of the vents. The brightly lit hallway revealed a homely feel. Pictures of her family littered the walls leaving no room for anything else. Walking further in towards the living room, she noticed how the brown antique chair was vacant. Ken was nowhere to he seen.

For the first time today I was confused. The lights shouldn't be on if no one was here. Standing lost in thought, from the corner of my eye I noticed a yellow sticky note with red writing on the couch cushion. Picking the note up my eyes quickly caught onto the familiar given nickname.

 _Dear Josi,_

 _Dad broke the pipes again, will be out for about an hour if I can get the right size in time before the store closes. So before you even go to the bathroom beware of sewage._

 _Yours truly, ken_

I groaned in annoyance, about to ball up the note and throw it away before noticing that there was something else on the other side.

 _P.S. there's meatloaf if you're hungry._

 _..._ seriously Ken? Meatloaf? Boy do you know how to push my buttons.

I balled up the sticky note after double checking for anything else, striping my coat off revealing a white blouse and blue jeans. Pushing my long moist blonde curls out of the way, I slumped down on the dark ebony couch sighing out on relief. I was home, and alone at that. Finally I can relax and just let go of everything if only for a little while. My eyes are closed now, and the feeling of slumber is slowly edging. For a second I believed that I was gone, but then a thought struck me like lightning. I didn't finish the story. I told myself that I would do so yesterday, but then I had been called in for work due to it being close to the holidays. In doing so I hadn't finished the last chapter. I quickly got up from the couches comfort, making my way upstairs to my room.

Opening the last door at the end, I reached for the knob pushing the wooden frame open seeing blue walls with elegant swirls covering all four sides. A single brown desk stacked with books and papers from school, and a single bed with lilac comforter near a window. The view oversees the valley that is covered in white blankets of snow. During this time of the year, winter always seems to evade the beauty of the grasses and trees that envelopes the canopies. Despite how much I wanted to continue looking out my only window, I had to finish that book. Striding across the cluttered floor I flop onto the mattress reaching in between the inch of space that was my window and bed searching for the very thing I had been reading for the past months Feeling the familiar smooth leather I grab it pulling it up to me.

Looking at it now I admire the craftsmanship of the book's contents. Its golden surface ancient markings attracted my attention like it had in the past. At first I believed it to be some sort of ancient recording of events in a location's past. I was only partially right, for it wasn't about the events of a place, but of a person who was fictional.

Her name was Ida, and her story was one that I found myself to be quite fond of for the past six months. She was invisible to the world only to a few certain people who could see her. not only could no one see her, but she was also so far from her family and home at that, though that didn't stop her from helping people. Why would I read a book about a female version of casper the friendly ghost. Maybe it was because she was the very thing I stopped trying to be. Perhaps it was also because she was like me in the beginning of her adventure. She is my escape from reality when I can't handle it. To know that I'm almost finished with her story makes me upset in many ways. One being that it's almost over, and the other at myself for loving a fictional character so much. I mean it's pretty obvious that it's fake due to her being a spirit and all, but I love her sass damn it! i calmed down a little before crossing my legs like a pretzel, and setting the book down on my lap.

Opening up the page I felt a slight sting from the paper watching as a drop of my blood splatter on the books page. Hissing at the sudden spark of pain I drop the book in my lap. Sucking on my wounded index finger the book suddenly began to glow. It was fain but bright enough for me to pause my ministrations. Instead of continuing to nurse my finger I just stared at the page in wonder. It was strange to see this happening at all. Im pretty sure that the book is made of leather. Touching its surface again the feeling of being pulled suddenly came over me. I began to get very tired fast. It was like I was losing consciousness. The next thing I know i'm seeing nothing but darkness.

Waking up has never felt so relieving before. For a second there I thought I had went into some sort of shock which pressed me into slumber. Though the thought of being alive was short lived when I realized I was outside of the house. Im pretty sure I was in my room not to long ago. Standing up from the grass covered ground, I was ready to head back before stopping in my tracks as a sudden thought hit me. Why is there grass on the ground? Now normally I wouldn't have panicked since dead grass has been seen in my front yard, but the grass here was far from dead. To be honest I haven't even seen a trace of my house since I woke up. It's not possible. There's no way that I'm not home right? I know I just blacked out but still this is...

The sound of voices could be heard from behind me. It was far off but still loud enough for me to hear. A sense of relief filled me. I can get help and directions to the nearest police station. With that in mind I pulled up the resolve and ran to the sound of voices.

Cutting through thick bushes and trees was rather easy for someone who's barefoot. in fact it almost felt as if I fazed through them. Ahead of me was a clearing, and as I continued to run in that direction the voices began to become louder and louder. excited now more than ever I made one final burst of speed before arriving at my destination. in front of me laid a small band three of men who appeared to be setting up camp. Their clothing was a bit weird for Americans, but despite this i saw that they were harmless. In fact they looked to be in their late 60's so if need be I can out run them. With that in mind I step out in the clearing while coughing to get their attention.

They looked up suddenly stopping their tasks at the same time. I gave them a bright smile introducing myself.

"Hi there, i'm Joslin Rowe. I need help..." they began to shout at me in a different language, or at least I thought so until they began to look around in panic. Its as if they couldn't see me. I too looked around to see what was up, but saw only trees and them.

"Okay, is this a bad time because I can just.." I was cut off again by one of them suddenly shouting out in anger, looking at me. I began to get nervous looking down at my toes while they continued to ramble on in what sounds like Arabic. Am I in another country? Before I could even ask another question one of them suddenly lunged into my direction. I didn't have enough time to dodge away from him. Though I didn't have to for he ran right through me into the thick forest behind me.

My eyes widen in sudden realization for the third time today. He just ran through me. Like Ghostbusters kind. Could I be? No that can't be it. There's just no way I died by a paper cut. I Made a loud noise just to see their reaction again. Like before the looked around frantically even though I stood right in front of them. They could hear me, but can't see me. Then I remembered my run in the forest again, and didn't it feel like I fazed through the trees that time also? With all this in mind I had thought of only one thing that made me angry.

Did I just kill myself from a paper cut?! Then another last thought came over me before fainting.

Kenny's gonna be so pissed.


End file.
